


Everything With You

by Ellessey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Barebacking, College, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Sex, First Time, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date. </p><p>And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.  </p><p>This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’</p><p>--</p><p>For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition. </p><p>What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything With You

Oikawa is walking around the apartment naked. Well, except for the socks, the socks are still on. This is one of the things Hajime has had to get used to since the two best friends decided to move into their own tiny, shitty apartment in their second year of college. Another thing Hajime has had to train himself to pretend he doesn't notice. He's very good at that though, he's been doing it for years. Ever since Oikawa first started noticing girls, and Hajime first started noticing that all he could see was Oikawa.

He'd told Oikawa then, when they were both sixteen. Not that he had a crush on him. Not that he had to duck his head to hide his flaming cheeks sometimes when he caught sight of too much of Oikawa's soft, pale skin in the locker room. But he told him that he wasn't into girls the way Oikawa was.

They had been sitting on the damp grass outside the school early one morning, waiting for the team to show up for practice, and Hajime had just blurted it out. Not realizing until the words were out there, heavy in the air between them, that he was hoping if Oikawa knew how Hajime felt, he might feel the same.

"Oh!" Oikawa had said, eyebrows lifting and mouth rounding.

Hajime had fisted both hands in the grass beside him, not certain if he was even breathing while he waited for whatever Oikawa would say next.

"Well, I should stop trying to get you to go on a double date with Nyoko-chan and her sister then, shouldn't I?"

Nyoko was Oikawa's current interest. She was every boy in their year's current interest actually, except for Hajime.

"I...yeah," Hajime muttered, fingers still twisted in the grass. "Is that...is that okay?"

Oikawa had laughed then, high and fluttery. "Of course it's okay, stupid." He rocked to the side to knock his shoulder against Hajime's, and Hajime had to bite his lip because all of a sudden he wanted to cry.

It was so much all at once. Telling Oikawa and having his carefully guarded secret out there and alive in someone else. Telling Oikawa and not being looked down on, not being scorned or pushed away.

Telling Oikawa and not seeing anything in Oikawa's eyes that told him he might not be alone.

Oikawa would always be his best friend. They would always have volleyball, and movie nights in Oikawa's living room, and arguing over everything under the sun. But they wouldn't have this. Not together.

Hajime swallowed the hurt that had welled up and bumped Oikawa with his shoulder, and Oikawa had laughed again and fallen back to lean on his elbows.

"But Iwa-chan...you've seen Nyoko's boobs, right? I mean, right?"

Hajime had rolled his eyes and shoved Oikawa's shoulder, knocking him onto his back and then smacking his head for good measure.

"Okay, okay," Oikawa said, batting Hajime's arm away and then throwing his hands up beside his head in surrender. "I'm sorry. You don't have to like boobs. It doesn't matter."

"So we're good?" Hajime asked. He wanted to say, _So you've never thought about it? About something other than girls? About me?_

"Yes! I told you that already, Iwa-chan. We're always okay. And less competition for me now, right? If the girls only knew handsome, brooding Iwa-chan was off the market..."

"Dumbass, shut up," Hajime said.

He'd hated his heart for beating harder when Oikawa called him handsome, because his mind was smart enough to know it didn't mean a thing.

And it didn't. They'd gone through high school with Hajime quietly focused on volleyball and his studies, and Oikawa managing to be hyper-focused on the team while also dating what seemed like the entire female population of their school.

At twenty now, Hajime doesn't really even think about it anymore. He still loves Oikawa, he still hasn't mustered up the courage or desire to ask a guy out, not when the one person he wants most hadn't wanted him, but he understands now. Oikawa can't. Just like Hajime can't understand Oikawa's fascination with girls (or with low-budget science fiction movies, or mismatched socks in garish colors), Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date.

It took him a while, but Hajime accepts that now. So even though he wishes it could be different, he knows that Oikawa isn't an option. And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs that kept getting longer all through high school, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.

This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.

It happens a lot, because Oikawa is so damn easily distracted. He'll start to get changed and then remember someone he wants to text, and walk out of his bedroom in boxer-briefs and nothing else to retrieve his phone. Hajime will walk in on him sitting in the middle of the living room floor, his long, smooth back bent over as he taps at his phone.

Or he'll get out of the shower and decide he's thirsty halfway to his room. Hajime almost choked to death last week when Oikawa walked right into the kitchen, completely naked, and asked Hajime to grab the milk for him. Hajime had a mouthful of his own milk at the time, which he'd swallowed in a hurry so he wouldn't spit it out, but it had gone down all wrong, and then he'd had to deal with Oikawa coming to help him. The whole thing had been terrible, and he'd ended up pushing Oikawa away from him so hard he’d fallen back and bruised his hip on the edge of the counter.

"Iwa-chaaan, look at this! Look what you did," he'd said the next day, yanking his shirt up and showing Hajime the damage, to which Hajime had responded, "I'll do it again if you can't keep your clothes on, Shittykawa."

Clearly this point has not been driven home yet, because here he is again. Coming into the living room and flipping through the stack of CDs next to the stereo as if Hajime isn't sitting three feet away from his bare ass, very much not reading the textbook on his lap anymore.

Also very grateful that the book is on his lap because good _God,_ how can anyone look that perfect? With all of the years he's played sports, Hajime has seen a lot of naked guys in locker rooms, and he knows this is not the norm. Oikawa looks more like a meticulously sculpted work of art, a photoshopped underwear model, than an actual person who should be standing in Hajime's living room right now. Everything so perfectly balanced, so finely, almost delicately formed, and yet so _strong._ The lines of his shoulders, the way his lean, muscled back tapers down as Hajime follows it with his eyes.

He shouldn't do that, because now he's back to Oikawa's ass, the soft curve swelling against the top of his thigh as he leans to rest most of his weight on one leg. The urge to run a finger along it is so strong Hajime's throat goes dry. He has to force his gaze back down and try to will his growing hard-on away.

"Did you forget something?" he asks.

"Yes! I really want to listen to that CD you got last week, but I think maybe I left it at my lab partner's house?"

"You...what? Why did you take it there in the first place? It's mine!"

"Because it's good, Iwa-chan," Oikawa says, turning to him with a confused expression, like he truly can't see how this even needs to be explained.

"You are so..." Hajime wants to say something about how annoying and selfish Oikawa can be, but the only words coming to his mind are _naked_ and _beautiful,_ so he just drops that thought entirely. "That's not what I meant. Did you forget something else? Like the rest of your clothes?"

"Hmm?" Oikawa hums. He looks down at himself and then his expression turns to one of such surprised delight that Hajime doesn't know whether to be enraged or charmed. "Look at that. And my socks don't even match!"

"No, they don't," Hajime grunts. Oikawa may manage to look like a model from a fashion ad every time he goes out, but Hajime knows how not put together he is at home. He knows that it’s just as appealing somehow.

"Alriiiight," Oikawa sighs. "I'll get dressed, you pick some music. It's too quiet in here."

"That's because I'm studying."

"Nope, not tonight, Iwa-chan!"

"Yes, tonight. See how there is a book in front of me and I'm reading it? This is studying, and I am doing it right now."

"No." Oikawa crouches on the floor right in front of Hajime, who presses the book down harder over his stupid, over-excited cock and winces. Oikawa has his determined face on and Hajime knows that he'll end up going along with whatever he says next, however grudgingly. "It’s a Friday night and we are going to a party." Hajime starts to shake his head and Oikawa reaches to grasp his chin firmly between long, slender fingers. "Yes," he says, forcing Hajime's head into a nod instead.

"Oikawa..."

"Pleeeaaase," Oikawa whines, dropping his stern expression and tipping forward on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. "I'm so stressed out, Iwa-chan. We have so many practices and so many papers and exams, and I feel like I'm not doing my best at _any_ of them."

Hajime feels his resolve weaken immediately at the crack in Oikawa's voice. He knows how important it is to Oikawa to not just succeed, but to succeed spectacularly. He knows how hard he takes it when he feels like he isn't measuring up.

"Oikawa, you're doing just fine."

"I'm not though," Oikawa says, a smile stretching across his face that is obviously an effort to suppress something more honest. "I'm really, really not."

"Hey," Hajime says, reaching for Oikawa's arm and pulling him to sit on the couch. "Are you okay?"

Oikawa leans against him and Hajime instinctively wraps his arm around his back, barely noticing the warmth of his bare skin now that he's focused on what's making Oikawa sound like this.

"I'm okay," he says softly. "I just...it all seems like a lot sometimes, you know? Trying to do everything well."

"Because you don't _have_ to do everything well, stupid. You always push yourself too much, you're making yourself miserable."

"I guess. I don't know."

He does know, but he'll ignore Hajime's advice like always. He'll keep trying too hard. So Hajime will have to do what he can.

"Alright, fine," he says. "You need to relax. Get dressed and we'll go to the party."

"Really?" Oikawa lifts his head to look at Hajime, his brown eyes wide and bright. "You'll go with me?"

"Yes, of course," Hajime says in the surliest voice he can muster. He doesn't even know why this makes Oikawa so happy. It's not like he needs him, it's not like girls won't be flocking around him like butterflies as soon as they enter the room, leaving Hajime to find a quiet corner where he can wait out the night.

"Thank you, Iwa-chan! This will be fun! It's going to be a good night, I can feel it."

"Right, sure you can," Hajime says, nudging Oikawa away from him with his shoulder. "Clothes, now."

"You know," Oikawa says, rising to his feet, "one would think that a man such as yourself, who appreciates the male form, wouldn't always be griping at me to cover up."

Hajime's jaw drops and Oikawa's eyes crinkle up in laughter immediately.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I know I'm not your type. I'll go!"

He walks back to his room, still laughing, still naked. Still exactly, in every way possible, Hajime's type.

Hajime lifts his book and smacks himself in the head with it.

*

It's exactly what Hajime expects. Too many people crammed into a small house that smells like sweat and beer. Guys shouting and girls moving around in giggling packs, and Oikawa lighting up like the sun as soon as they step inside.

"Aaah," he sighs, spreading his arms wide as if he wants to take everything in this place and hold it close. "Life! People! Music!"

Hajime rolls his eyes and pushes past him. The amount of life and people they have at home is more than enough for him.

"Iwa-chan, don't sulk all night. We’re here to renew ourselves."

"I'm here because I won't get any studying done with you whining at me anyway. Go renew yourself and don't worry about me."

Oikawa grins and hugs him around the neck. "I always worry about you. You are a grumpy bear that needs to be reminded to smile."

"I'm not a—" Hajime scowls even deeper and knocks Oikawa's arm away. "Go. Have fun. I see some guys from the team over there." He nods his head towards the far corner of the room where a couple of their teammates are standing.

"Okay!" Oikawa agrees, and then he's heading off towards the kitchen where the drinks and most of the party goers seem to be.

It's not a terrible night. Imada and Toma are easy to talk to and they spend a good while discussing strategies for their upcoming matches. Every so often Hajime looks around to see what Oikawa's up to, to find his soft, brown hair poking up above the heads of the people around him. So many girls, bright eyed and chattering, and Oikawa soaking it all up.

It's not until they've been there for over an hour and most of the girls have gotten distracted and drifted upstairs to see the puppy that has been closed in a bedroom, that things start to take a wrong turn.

This time when Hajime's gaze drifts around to find Oikawa, he has a new companion, just one. A slim, attractive guy that Hajime has seen around campus before. His hair is bleached blonde and swept to the side, he dresses even better than Oikawa does, and he is definitely gay. Hajime has seen him leaning into other guys, the way he's leaning into Oikawa now. He's seen him holding their hands, even kissing one right outside his Political Science classroom. None of it had bothered him, other than the pang of envy it incited, seeing that it was all so easy for someone else.

It bothers him now. A lot.

What is he doing? Standing so close to Oikawa, looking at him with that sly grin, his hand pressed to the wall next to Oikawa's head so he's practically caging him in.

And, more concerning, _why_ does Oikawa look so okay with it? He's relaxed, slouched back against the wall and laughing easily at something blondie has said.

He must not realize. He must be mistaking this guy's flirting for innocent friendliness. He can't, surely, be flirting back.

"That guy's wasting his time," he mutters.

"Huh?" Imada asks, glancing around until he sees what Hajime is looking at. "Damn, Naka-san is all over Oikawa, huh?"

"Naka-san?" Hajime asks. "Who is he?"

Imada shrugs. "Nakaharu Eishun. He's in my Philosophy study group. Seems like a good guy."

"He sure thinks Oikawa seems like a good guy, too," Toma laughs.

Hajime clenches his fists and makes himself look away. So what if Nakaharu is flirting with Oikawa, it's not like Hajime can blame him. Oikawa is charming and well-built and magnetic. Hajime would be doing his best to flirt with him too, if he didn't know it was a dead-end road. But it is, and Nakaharu will figure that out soon enough.

He hopes it's very soon.

Toma and Imada are talking to him again so he tries to focus, keeping his eyes on them instead of letting them drift to the other side of the room. He almost manages to forget, for a few minutes, when Toma fucks up the punchline to his own joke and Imada chokes on a sip of beer while laughing at him. Hajime laughs too, clapping Imada on the back and actually enjoying himself, until his eyes sweep the room automatically and he finds that Oikawa is no longer there.

He tries not to panic. He shouldn't even have to be forcing the panic down right now. Oikawa isn't a child, and Hajime is definitely not his keeper. But he saw the way Nakaharu was looking at him and now they're gone and what does that _mean?_

He excuses himself as politely as possible and then tries to casually work his way through the room, looking for someone else he knows, someone who can help him.

"Takano-san!" he says when he stumbles upon the team's captain in the kitchen. "Have you seen Oikawa?"

"Yeah, he just passed through here. Think he went out in the back."

"Thanks," Hajime says, moving past Takano towards the door leading out to the patio behind the house. He braces himself before he opens the door, and then slides it to the side, stepping out into the cool fall air.

There are quite a few people out here, clustered in little groups on the patio and around the small backyard, some smoking, some just talking. But there's no sign of Oikawa or Nakaharu, unless....

Those two figures leaning against the fence, almost around the side of the house, but still visible. Hajime moves to the edge of the patio, he pulls out his phone and pretends to have a reason to be there, but his eyes are searching, waiting to adjust to the shadows around the two men. One tall and leaning against the fence, the other shorter, thinner, and blonder, hands sliding up the brunette's chest and then wrapping around his neck before he rises on his toes and kisses him.

Oikawa. He kisses Oikawa.

Hajime holds his breath. He waits for Oikawa's hands to come up and push Nakaharu away.

Eventually he has to breathe again, because Oikawa is running a hand through Nakaharu's hair and wrapping his other arm around him to pull him closer. Closer, not farther away.

Hajime feels sick. There's a rushing in his ears and he feels like he needs to either swallow or throw up, but there's a fist around his throat. He knows he needs to stop watching, this isn't going to get better. They're not kissing now, but they're talking, low voices he can't make out, faces close together, shy and smiling.

What does this mean? How can this be happening? Now, with someone else, someone who isn't Hajime?

The door to the house opens and shuts loudly and Hajime almost jumps. He really has to move, to get out of here, but....he came here with Oikawa, so what happens now?

He goes back inside, finds an empty chair and sits down, pulling up a game on his phone just to have something to pretend to focus on. He doesn't know how long he stares at it, tapping it every so often when the screen starts to shut off from disuse, before he hears Oikawa's laugh and looks up to see him coming towards him, Nakaharu at his side.

"Iwa-chan! No! This is exactly what you weren't supposed to do!"

Hajime wants to punch him, to tell him off for talking to him like a puppy who's soiled the rug in front of this stranger, with his stupidly sleek hair and smiling eyes. He hates him. He hates both of them.

He can't let them see that.

"I've been socializing," he says, swallowing the hot anger before it can slip out and bite at Oikawa. "The rest of the team has already left though, so..."

"I didn't realize it had gotten so late!" Oikawa exclaims, tossing a smile at Nakaharu that makes Hajime clench his jaw. "Nakaharu, this is my best friend, Iwa-chan."

"Iwaizumi," Hajime says, getting to his feet. "You don't have to introduce me like that, Oikawa. We're not ten."

Oikawa pretends to be affronted and Nakaharu laughs good naturedly, reaching out a hand to introduce himself to Hajime.

"It was good to meet both of you," he says, after Hajime has gripped his hand just a touch too hard. "I'm gonna take off. Call me though, huh?" he adds, resting a hand on Oikawa's lower back.

To Hajime's horror, Oikawa blushes, two perfect, rosy patches high on his cheeks, and says, "Yeah, I will."

Nakaharu leaves then and Hajime avoids Oikawa's eyes, going to toss out his empty cup and waiting while Oikawa says goodbye to a few people, before they leave and walk quietly to the train station.

It’s not until they’re on the train, and have settled into a nearly empty car, that Oikawa turns to him. “Iwa-chan...I have to talk to you about something.”

Hajime turns slightly so he’s looking out the window, and Oikawa hopefully won’t be able to read more on his face than he wants to show.

“I...I was talking to Eishun...Nakaharu, I mean, at the party, and...he’s gay, did you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay. Well, we were talking, and—”

“I know,” Hajime says, still not looking at Oikawa.

“You…”

“I know. I went outside looking for you and I saw...you two.”

“Oh!” Hajime doesn’t need to see Oikawa to know exactly how he looks now, that rounded mouth that always looks a little too kissable. “Well, what do you think? Is it really weird? He was flirting with me and I told him I don’t date guys, and he asked if I’d ever tried. Kind of a stupid line, I guess, isn’t it? But I told him I hadn’t and...Iwa-chan? Are you listening?”

“Yes.” Hajime forces himself to face Oikawa with a fairly neutral expression. It’s okay if he looks a little irritated. That’s normal, after all. “Then what happened?”

“We just talked for a while and he was pretty funny and charming, really funny and charming actually, and then he asked if he could kiss me, just to see…”

 _Fucking slimy asshole_. Should Hajime have tried that himself? Would it work for someone who was neither particularly funny nor charming?

“And?” Hajime asks.

“And...he’s a good kisser.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The train is so quiet, just the faint voices of the two other passengers several rows away from them. Hajime wants to be out of here so badly, to be in his own room, away from Oikawa and everything he’s saying right now.

"So, are you then?” he asks. “Going to date him?"

"Hmm...no, not date. You know what the problem with girls is, Iwa-chan?"

Hajime can imagine there are quite a few, but he doesn't say this, just shakes his head.

"They want you to be _serious_. They want things to _go somewhere_ , and I just...I'm not very good at that."

"Right."

"But Eishun...I could just tell him straight out that I suck at relationships and he didn't care, because he's not looking for one either, he just..."

Hajime's stomach turns. He doesn't know if this is better or worse. It definitely seems worse. And what the hell is with _Eishun?_ He’s known this guy for less than two hours.

"You know..." Oikawa waves a hand in the air and trails off again.

"Yeah...I got it." He just wants to fuck around. To do all the things with Oikawa that Hajime has dreamed of, and do them without it meaning a damn thing.

"It just kind of seems appealing, right now...with so much going on already. I get to blow off some steam and not have to worry about impressing anyone's parents."

"Yeah, sure."

"Iwa-chan...does it bother you? I mean, is it insulting somehow?"

Hajime has no idea how to answer that. Oikawa can't know what he's thinking—that he was never enough to tempt him, but this stupid blonde kid appears out of nowhere and suddenly Oikawa's on board with branching out—so he must mean something else. "Insulting?" he asks.

"Yeah, like...I don't know, am I infringing on your territory or something?"

Hajime's eyes narrow. He's still not entirely sure what that's supposed to mean, but it's all just making him uncomfortable. "My what? Don't be an asshole, Oikawa,” he says, voice low and harsher than he means it to be. “Just because I only like guys, doesn't mean you can't have a fling with one for fun. I don't care. I don't care who you kiss."

Oikawa doesn't say anything, but when Hajime chances a quick look over at him he can see that he's hurt. Goddammit. What the hell does he want?

“Hey,” he says, trying to take some of the bite out of his voice. It’s not Oikawa’s fault. He doesn’t know Hajime is in love with him. He raps Oikawa’s arm with the back of his fist and tries again. “Oikawa...it doesn’t bother me. I was just surprised, but...it’s fine. If it’s what you want, of course I’m good with it.”

_I’m not good with it. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not._

Oikawa gives him a watery smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes, dumbass. It’s not a big deal. Don’t even worry about it, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Oikawa smiles at him again and then relaxes against the back of their seat. He rambles about volleyball the whole way home, and Hajime counts the streetlights as they pass, wondering how many it will take before his eyes stop burning with blinked back tears.

*

Hajime has gotten used to a lot of things, he could probably get used to the naked apartment wandering even, but this...this Oikawa and Nakaharu _thing_ , he cannot, will not, get used to.

It starts slowly. Oikawa's phone will ping with a new message and his lips will curve into an unconscious little smile as he reads it. This goes on for about a week, the texting and intimate expressions, and then Oikawa goes over to Nakaharu's place for the first time, coming home hours later with tousled hair and his shirt done up so that every button is one off from where it should be. Hajime goes out for a long run that night.

He goes again midway through the week, and Hajime goes to bed at 9:00 so he won't have to see Oikawa when he comes back. He can't avoid seeing him the next day though, and he can't ignore how happy Oikawa seems, lighter somehow.

Hajime is beginning to feel entirely unnecessary.

By the following week he's forced to question this whole roommate arrangement, because what is happening now—coming in his front door and being confronted with Oikawa on top of Nakaharu on their living room couch, Nakaharu's slim legs wrapped around Oikawa's waist—this is not what Hajime was agreeing to when they signed their lease together. This is not something he is in any way prepared to handle.

They hear him, when he steps inside, and Oikawa's head comes up, cheeks flushed and lips wet and no, _no_. Hajime does _not_ want to see him like this. Not when his lips are swollen from someone else's kisses. Not when someone else's body against him has made him breathless. A _guy's_ body, but not his.

"Iwa-chan! You're home early!"

So what? This is his living room, too. He should be able to walk into his living room at any time and not have to see this.

"Sorry," he forces out. "I can—"

"No! I'm sorry," Oikawa says, moving off of Nakaharu so he's sitting next to him instead of on top of him, both of them zipping up their pants. "We were just going to watch a movie, and...but we'll watch it now! Watch with us?"

"No, no...you guys just...I have a lot of work to do anyway." Hajime tries to smile? Maybe? It was probably not successful, but he ducks his head and walks quickly past them to his room.

"Iwaizumi-kun."

Hajime probably would have ignored Oikawa, but it's Nakaharu saying his name now, and it seems like it would be harder for Oikawa to overlook Hajime being rude to his friend, his whatever he is, than to him.

He turns back around.

"Please," Nakaharu says. "Oikawa talks so much about you. Hang out with us, for a little while at least."

Hajime wants to ask what kinds of things Oikawa says about him, if they're the same things he hears, which are mostly, _I'm better at this than you,_ _your face might stay like that one day,_ and _don't hurt yourself thinking too hard_. Hajime knows he doesn't mean them, but he also can't imagine what he might say that he _did_ mean.

He finds himself walking back to the living room though. Not because Nakaharu has asked him, but because the worst thing, the very worst thing about all of this, is how far away it makes Oikawa feel. Almost every thought Hajime has lately is something he can't tell him, and he knows it's making him even more irritable than usual. If he blows them off, they'll probably reach a point where they don't try to include him, and then not only will he not have Oikawa the way Nakaharu does, he won't have him at all.

So he sits in the recliner next to the couch, he tries not to notice Nakaharu running a finger up and down Oikawa's arm, and he tries not to think about all the ways he and Nakaharu are different. Nakaharu with his delicate build, large eyes, and smooth hair. Nakaharu who is small and pretty, prettier than Oikawa even. Maybe if Hajime looked like that instead of the way he does—sturdy, tanned, black hair choppy and rough—maybe then when he'd told Oikawa he liked boys, Oikawa might have looked at him and thought, _I understand_.

It seems so unfair, ridiculous even, that someone can be so perfect for you, but you can be the exact opposite of what they want. How does something like that even happen? What is wrong with Hajime that he can't stop being in love with someone who is never going to be in love with him?

He feels tired when the movie finally ends, even though he's just been sitting here. He says goodnight to Oikawa and Nakaharu and spends the next hour listening to their soft voices through his door, and then to Oikawa's giggles, and then his moans.

Hajime puts his pillow over his head and tries to think of legitimate excuses he could use for why he needs to move out.

*

The next two weeks don't include a repeat of the couch incident, which is fortunate because Hajime hasn't thought of a single thing to say other than the truth, which is not an option. Oikawa is still texting Nakaharu a lot, definitely still seeing him, but it's always at Nakaharu's place. Hajime still hates everything about all of this, but at least when it's not right in front of his face it's easier to deal with. Maybe even something he _can_ learn to adjust to, like everything else.

The biggest problem now is that he misses Oikawa, a lot.

It's a Thursday and he usually has a study group after class, but he feels pretty good about history and decides to skip it. Oikawa will be home and maybe they can just hang out and watch something on TV, or maybe talk about something that has nothing to do with Nakaharu.

He stops at the little shop just down from their apartment and picks up some mochi—Oikawa's favorite, chocolate espresso—and then almost tosses it out before he gets to their building because what the hell is he doing, but he holds onto the bag and goes inside.

This time they're both shirtless, and Oikawa has Nakaharu up against the wall in their hallway, Nakaharu's pants somewhere around his knees. They don't even notice Hajime, so he turns around and walks back out, dropping the mochi in the trash can outside the building. He wishes that his best friend was someone else, so he could go to him and tell him that he's afraid he might snap.

 _Get it together_ , he tells himself, sitting on a train just to be going somewhere away from that apartment. He can't keep doing this, getting so worked up about everything Oikawa does. He can't keep feeling like everything has changed, when nothing really has. So maybe Oikawa isn't strictly straight, maybe he can be interested in guys, but that doesn't mean he's suddenly going to be interested in Hajime. He never has been, he isn't now, so Hajime needs to suck it up and just _stop._

Nothing is going to change. Oikawa is his friend, he is not his anything else, so does he want to be Oikawa's friend or not?

He does. He tries to be.

He hangs out with the two of them when Nakaharu is over, and it's not like it's _that_ bad, because Nakaharu, if he didn't happen to be the reason Hajime's heart is in pieces, is actually fairly cool. He's not afraid to laugh at Oikawa when he's being an idiot, and sometimes Hajime finds himself almost halfway enjoying himself when he's with them. But then Nakaharu will touch Oikawa, something always edging past casual, a hand not just on his leg, but curving to the inside of his thigh, and Hajime has to take a deep breath and make sure his face doesn't show how much he minds.

He's getting through it though, other than missing Oikawa. And wondering how long this "not dating" thing is going to last, since they sure see a lot of each other for two people who don't want anything serious.

He could probably have kept going, he's gotten so good at getting used to things, at acting like he's fine.

But then Nakaharu stays the night. Hajime has to watch the two of them disappear into Oikawa's room, when normally Nakaharu would leave to catch the last train, and then he has to listen to them, right there on the other side of the wall.

All of it is bad. The squeak of the mattress, the rustling sheets, snatches of laughter turning into sighs. But still, Hajime could have handled it, if it wasn't for the way Oikawa's voice suddenly breaks through the building chorus of moans, the way it sounds so wrecked, so desperate when he cries out, _Eishun._

Hajime isn't sure why exactly this is the last straw for him. Maybe because Oikawa never calls him by his given name, and because he has a particular favorite fantasy in which he does. But he can't, he just really can't anymore. Before he can stop himself and try to calm down, he slams his fist against the wall, the one he and Oikawa share.

"Hey!" he yells. Bellows, actually, like a jealous boyfriend, or an angry father. "Can you keep it the fuck down?"

There's silence in the other room, and then a hesitant, "Sorry?" followed by a muffled laugh, and maybe that's actually what the last straw is.

He gets out of bed and leaves his room, flinging the door behind him so it slams closed, and marches straight for the front door because he is finished. He was right before, when he thought this was something he could never get used to.

So maybe this is it. Maybe he's such a misguided, lovesick moron that he's going to lose his very best friend because he can't fucking get over him.

He slams their apartment door shut, too, and is halfway to the elevator when it opens again and Oikawa comes running out into the hall.

"Iwa-chan!"

Hajime doesn't turn around, he's almost at the elevator, he's pounding on the buttons, and then Oikawa's hand is grasping his shoulder.

"Iwa-chan! _What_ is going on?"

Hajime jerks out of Oikawa's hold, refusing to turn around. The door slides open and he throws himself forward, turning as soon as he's in so he can block Oikawa and close the door, but Oikawa isn't having it. He's standing there in boxers and a hastily thrown on t-shirt, the hem wrapped over itself so it’s caught halfway down his stomach, and he looks thoroughly pissed off.

"Stop it," he says, shoving Hajime aside so he can get in, and then slamming the button to close the door himself. "What is the _matter_ with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you yelling at me?!"

 _"I'm not_ —" He is yelling, still. Hajime steps back and runs his hands into his hair, pulling at it and squeezing his eyes shut. He imagines that he made it to the elevator before Oikawa could catch up. That he is alone and not faced with this situation right now, in which he has to either tell Oikawa the truth or continue lying to his best friend.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he says. "I'm just..."

 _In_ _love with you. I'm in love with you._

"I'm stressed out. Midterms are almost here and I wanted to get to bed early and...just, it's a Wednesday night, Oikawa. I'm glad your thing with Nakaharu is working out for you and you're feeling better and everything, but some of us are still really overwhelmed."

Oikawa's eyebrows draw together and his mouth softens. "I didn't know you were overwhelmed, Iwa-chan. I feel like...it seems like we've barely talked in so long."

Hajime shrugs, trying to look casual while his mind races, thoughts stumbling over each other. "It probably had to happen eventually," he says. This is the truth. It's what he's finally realized is the truth.

Oikawa shakes his head slightly, confused. "What did?"

"This." Hajime waves his hand between them. "Us not...not being the same. We're not always going to be best buddies having movie marathons and...." He trails off at the look on Oikawa's face. The way the confusion has slipped into disbelief, bordering on hurt.

"Why not?" Oikawa asks, his voice small.

"Because...because that's not realistic. People grow up and get busy, they have boyfriends and...."

"Boyfriends...Iwa-chan, Eishun isn't my boyfriend. Is that what this is about?"

"No," Hajime says. "There's no 'this'—"

"But there is!” Oikawa cuts in. "You punch the wall and storm out of the apartment, and now you're saying you've always expected us to drift apart? I don't understand...are you mad at me?"

_"No."_

God, let this conversation be over. Let Oikawa let it go, let him go, because Hajime cannot get himself to be the one to do it, and he _has_ to. He can't do this anymore. He can't keep telling himself he's fine with the way things are when obviously he's not fine at all.

"Did I do something?" Oikawa's hands are twisted in the stupid, rolled up hem of his shirt now, clenching it. Something about his bare stomach, the soft skin in the dips below his hipbones, makes Hajime want to cry. "I must have done something, so please just talk to me, tell me so I can—"

“You didn't _do_ anything, Oikawa. I'm not mad at you!"

"You keep saying that, but then you keep _yelling_ at me!" Oikawa shouts back, and Hajime knows that they’re already in too deep now to be able to walk away from this without something changing. Oikawa only yells when he's trying to cover up something else, and it's not working because Hajime can see the tears shining in his eyes, threatening to spill over. "Just tell me why!"

Maybe Hajime knows deep down that this is all going to hell anyway, and there's probably nothing he can do to save it. Maybe this is why his words bypass his brain completely and spill out in an angry, honest torrent.

"Because you're dating Nakaharu!” he shouts, stepping closer to Oikawa with his fists clenched tightly at his sides so he won’t reach out and shake him. “Because you're fucking him, whatever you're doing with him. It doesn't matter. All of it, everything you do with him is fucking _killing_ me!"

 _"Why?”_ Oikawa doesn’t back away, even as the first tear is blinked free and dashes down his cheek. “I asked you, the very first day I met him, I asked you if it bothered you, if it was weird, and you said—"

"I lied! I lie to you all the _time,_ Oikawa. Because you know what I wanted to say? You know why every time I see you with him I want to gouge my fucking eyes out?"

Oikawa's hands have dropped limply to his sides and his shirt finally falls. His lips are parted and he looks like, maybe, he's starting to understand exactly what's been going on, but he can't quite believe it.

Hajime has gone this far. He might as well bang that last nail in and make sure Oikawa knows.

"I want you to be with _me_. I’m in love with you. I've been stupidly, over the top, blow my brains out in love with you for...for as long as I've known what love is. Probably longer."

Oikawa's lips come together and Hajime watches his throat move as he swallows, watches him take a step back, and away. Tears are running down his face now, one catching at the tip of his quivering chin. This is not how this was supposed to go.

"I thought it could never happen, all these years, and I was okay with that, but then...then you..."

"Iwa-chan..."

"It's just so much worse now, Oikawa. Knowing that it _could_ happen, but it _won't_. I can't...I don't know what to do anymore, but I don't think I can keep doing this."

Oikawa is so quiet, and so still. When he finally speaks his voice is low and almost empty, and Hajime is afraid he’s broken him somehow. "You're...in love with me."

Hajime can't say it again, so he nods.

"Why... _why_ are you just telling me now?"

Hajime hates the betrayal he sees in Oikawa’s face, the hurt that he’s put there, but at least he sounds like himself again. At least he’s not shutting off.

"How could I have told you before?" he asks.

"Like this!" Oikawa bursts out, his composure dropping completely. "The same way you just did it, except _years_ ago!"

Hajime can't work up his temper again to match Oikawa's. He feels so drained now that he's opened himself up, like his ribs have been cracked apart and there’s nothing left for him to do but wait to bleed out.

"What would be the point?"

"I don't know? Not hiding something this huge from me for so long?" Oikawa’s hands are gripping his shirt again, his knuckles white. Hajime wants to take them, to hold them to his lips and kiss away the tension and the confusion. He wants Oikawa to be able to see his heart, to know the depth of his feelings for him, and understand why he couldn’t bring himself to show that to someone who couldn’t accept it.

"I already knew you didn't want me, Oikawa. I didn't want to make you have to actually say it."

Oikawa isn't blocking the buttons anymore, so Hajime reaches to open the door and Oikawa doesn't stop him.

“Tell me, though,” he says, when he’s stepped out into the hall and Oikawa is still standing in the same place. “Would it have made any difference?”

The tears still slipping from Oikawa’s eyes, and the silence when he opens his mouth and then closes it again, are all the answer Hajime ever expected.

He forces a smile and nods, like feigning acceptance will make this all bearable somehow. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

He turns and walks back to their apartment and Oikawa doesn’t say a word. There’s just the slide and thunk of the elevator door closing.

It’s empty now, Nakaharu must have left and taken the stairs down. Oikawa must have left too, because the apartment stays empty for the rest of the night. Hajime doesn’t cry. He doesn’t really do anything at all. He just waits for the sun to rise and then he starts packing his things.

When Oikawa comes in, wearing the same t-shirt and a pair of shorts that are too big for him, Hajime is neatly folding the last of his shirts.

“Hey,” Oikawa says, standing in Hajime’s doorway. His voice is raw, his eyes puffy and red. His hair is such a disaster Hajime has to fight the urge to go to him and smooth his hands through it.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

“Eishun’s.” Oikawa tugs at the shorts hanging too low on his hips. “His brother is my height, but I think he’s a little heavier.”

Hajime nods and looks down at the shirt in his hands. He told Oikawa he loves him, and Oikawa went to Nakaharu. It could almost be funny. If Hajime goes a few more hours without sleeping it probably will be.

“I’m sorry. For leaving. I just…”

“I know,” Hajime says. They really don’t need to do this again. He knew before anything was said last night that this wouldn’t work.

Oikawa shakes his head though, stepping out of the doorway now and into his room. “I didn’t know what to say to you. You just turned the world upside down and I couldn’t...I couldn’t process it all at once like that.”

“Oikawa, it’s okay. You don’t have to—”

“It’s not. It’s _not_ okay. Iwa-chan, you should have _told_ me. If not before, then at least as soon as I started seeing Eishun. Why would you let me do that to you?”

Hajime is confused. The words should be the other way around. Why would _Hajime_ do that to him. Why would he lie to him, why would he carry such a stupid torch for all that time?

“What?” he asks.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa comes closer so he’s standing right next to the bed with Hajime now. “You are my _best friend._ ” He has that look he gets when he really wants Hajime to understand something, like how cool the special effects were in the movie he just watched, or how it was completely necessary for him to wipe his hands directly on Hajime’s shirt after spilling juice on them. Usually things that he is never going to get Hajime to understand, but he gets this. He doesn’t need this explained to him.

“I know, I get that. We don’t have to do this.”

“No, you don’t get anything,” Oikawa says, shaking his head. “Do you even know how much I love you? I mean, have I ever even told you that?”

Hajime finally drops the folded shirt and presses his hands to his eyes. This is not helping. He _knows_ how important their friendship is, he knows that Oikawa loves him as a friend, but that’s all they can have. He’s known that from the start.

“I know, Oikawa. I know. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship.”

“Would you stop? You don’t know what I’m saying, so just shut up and listen to me, Iwa-chan. You should have told me. If only because you should have trusted that nothing you could say would _ever_ fuck up our friendship. You should have known you mean way too much to me for that to happen. So maybe that’s my fault.”

“It’s not—”

“Oh my God, Iwa-chan, stop interrupting me!”

Hajime closes his mouth.

“Maybe if I’d done a better job of...of showing you that, maybe you would have realized that of _course_ you should have told me. That if I knew...if I knew my best friend, the person I love more, and respect more, and want to be around more than _anyone_...if I knew you were in love with me? Don’t you think I’d want to know that I could have everything with you?”

Hajime is very suddenly sitting down on the floor, his legs splayed under him and the bed against his back. He is also, possibly, crying.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa sinks down, kneeling next to him. “Didn’t you think if I was interested in Eishun, it would at least be worth letting me know that it would be okay if I was interested in you?”

“No,” Hajime says. “I didn’t. I didn’t think you could be. I’m nothing like Nakaharu, I’m—”

Oikawa’s hand comes to his face, his warm fingers tracing along Hajime’s cheek and jaw, and then pressing under his chin so Hajime is looking at him instead of his own hands.

“You’re so stupid, Iwa-chan.”

“Exactly.”

Oikawa smiles and then presses both hands to Hajime’s face so he can’t look away. “Eishun is fun. He’s distracting and it’s been nice, to just relax, but he’s…he’s just a guy, Iwa-chan. He’s a good guy, but he’s not…he’s not part of me, like you are.”

 _He’s a guy you were attracted to, though,_ Hajime thinks. He almost says it, but then Oikawa is talking again, and he seems to know what he was thinking anyway.

“You and your dark eyes, and your shoulders that make lesser men hunch over in shame, and your _voice_ …”

“My voice?”

“Iwa, do you not know how attractive you are?”

“You always tell me I look terrible.”

Oikawa scowls at him, pressing his hands against Hajime’s face and squishing it before letting go and throwing his hands up. “And you always tell me I’m an idiot!”

“Well you are!”

Oikawa laughs, shaking his head and sitting flat on the floor. “I was just teasing you, Iwa-chan! And I’m smart enough to have always known you were attractive, I just never thought about being attracted _to_ you. I never would have...even after meeting Eishun, I never would have thought about it because I had _no_ idea you could be attracted to me. I never thought I was someone you’d want.”

“You are,” Hajime says softly. “I’ve only ever wanted you.” He almost reaches out to take Oikawa’s hand, but stops himself. “But Oikawa...I’m not just attracted to you, I don’t just want to mess around, I want…”

“I know.” Oikawa takes his hand instead, his slender fingers weaving through Hajime’s.

“But that’s not what you want. You don’t want to be serious, you don’t like commitment.”

Oikawa laughs again, soft and low, closing Hajime’s hand between both of his own like he’s laying claim to him. “I’m already committed to you though, stupid. How many years has it been me and you? I already love you, so it wouldn’t change anything. We’d just…get to do other stuff, too.”

Hajime is fairly certain his heart is on the brink of exploding already, with the things Oikawa is saying. He’s honestly not sure if trying to do any kind of stuff right now would be at all wise. Oikawa’s hands are coming to his face again though, the tips of his fingers trailing over his cheeks and into his hair before dancing down the back of his neck like little, tingling drops of rain.

“So?” Oikawa says. He’s smiling, but his eyes are a little too wide and a little too bright, and it’s this that calms Hajime down. Oikawa is nervous.

Hajime wraps his hands around Oikawa’s wrists and tugs at them gently. “We don’t have to do this. You can think about it some more, or you don’t have to think about it at all and we can just...keep being friends.”

“Except that you’ll move out,” Oikawa says, clasping his hands behind Hajime’s neck and nodding his head towards the bag of folded clothes on the bed.

“Is that why you’re doing this? Oikawa—”

“No, it’s not.” Oikawa’s arms tense, tightening his grip around Hajime’s neck like he’s daring him to try to make him let go. “I’m doing this because I sat up all night thinking about you and me, and what we have, and what we _could_ have. I thought about how happy you make me and how you take care of me, and how...how you need me too, Iwa-chan. Because I know I make you happy, and God knows not much else does.”

“That will never change though. I’ll always take care of you,” Hajime says, sliding his hands up Oikawa’s arms, over the dense muscles of his biceps and then the smooth rise of his shoulders.

“I know,” Oikawa says, smiling. “Now after everything I’ve put you through the last couple months, why don’t you let me take care of you?”

Hajime’s mouth falls open and Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat, he leans in and all of a sudden instead of emptiness, it’s Oikawa, soft and sweet between his lips.

He knows that he should do something, that something should come next, he should move or breathe or anything. But he’s frozen there, with Oikawa’s breath warm on his cheek and his arms still so tight around his neck. Only his tongue moves, glancing across Oikawa’s bottom lip, and he could happily die right now, just like this. He tastes like every one of Hajime’s best memories. Sunny afternoons in the park, the grass soft and bright under their bare feet. The high of victory after a game, Oikawa’s sweat soaked jersey grasped in his hand and strong arms squeezing him so tight it would hurt if he could feel anything other than elation. Oikawa has been there for everything, big and small, and all of it is here now, exploding behind Hajime’s closed eyes as Oikawa sighs against him.

Then it doesn’t matter, that Hajime doesn’t know what he’s doing, because Oikawa is tilting his head, tugging Hajime closer and taking control of the kiss. And soon, just like on the court where Hajime doesn’t even have to look at Oikawa to know what he’s going to do next, they’re in sync. Hajime’s lips are moving with Oikawa’s, his tongue picking up on the rhythm of give and take, his head spinning with the sounds of the slow kisses they’re trading, and their breath falling heavier and hotter on each other’s skin.

Finally, when he starts to feel truly dizzy and is grateful that he’s already on the floor, Hajime leans back enough to break their kiss, though his thumbs continue to stroke along the line of Oikawa’s jaw.

Oikawa’s eyes open slowly and Hajime has never seen them so hazy and warm. When he smiles Hajime is sure he’s never seen his lips like this before either. So, so soft, and then opening to let out a breathy laugh.

“Well!” he says.

“Well?” Hajime isn’t really worried. He doesn’t think it’s likely that something could feel so perfect to him, could make Oikawa look the way he does now, and not have felt good to Oikawa too.

“We probably should have done that a long time ago.”

“I wanted to.” Hajime can’t stop himself from leaning back in to catch Oikawa’s lips again, then to press his lips to his nose, his forehead, the perfect arch of his cheekbone. “You have no idea how much I wanted to. I should have...I’m sorry, Oikawa. I should have told you so much sooner, even if you’d said no. And I shouldn’t have just exploded at you last night, and—”

“No, don’t apologize for that. I get it, I know how hard it would have been, and how you must have felt with...God, _I’m_ so sorry,” Oikawa says, tucking his chin down so Hajime almost loses his grip on his face.

“Hey, don’t, don’t. What do you have to be sorry for?” he asks, tipping Oikawa’s chin back up to face him.

“For not knowing, and for being with Eishun, for you having to _see_ that, and—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But I’m so stupid, I knew you weren’t yourself and I never put it together. I spent all that time with him that I could have been spending with you, and I wish…”

Oikawa’s cheeks flush pink and Hajime is pretty sure he knows what he’s thinking. He wishes all of this was brand new for both of them, too. He wishes they could have had all the firsts together.

“Did...did you guys, I mean...you don’t have to talk about it. But, you were sleeping with him right?” It definitely sounded like he was. It definitely looked like if it wasn’t already happening it was about to, that second time he’d walked in on them.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, his fingers tracing slow paths up and down Hajime’s arms.

“What’s it like?” Hajime asks, and Oikawa looks at him in surprise.

He sputters a little like he’s not sure what to say, what would be too weird to say to the person he’s just been kissing. “It’s, um…it’s good? We only did it a couple times and...I mean, I only ever topped, so…”

“Oh. Is that...” Hajime squeezes his eyes shut. He should probably be able to say these things out loud considering how much he’s thought about them, how many times they’ve already happened in his head. He would like to do that with Oikawa, to know what it feels like to have him inside him, but he also has a lot of fantasies that involve him turning Oikawa over and filling him until he can’t say anything but Hajime’s name. “Is that what you’d want to do...with me?” he finally gets out. When he opens his eyes Oikawa is smirking slightly.

“Yes, I do want to fuck you, Iwa-chan,” he says. Hajime’s stomach immediately clenches. Then the smirk settles into something a little more shy, and Oikawa stops running his hand over Hajime’s arm and tangles their fingers together instead. “But...I think I’d like it the other way too, if it’s with you.”

“Yeah?”

Oikawa nods. The warmth in his eyes seems to deepen right in front of Hajime, becoming something darker, hungrier.

“Me too,” Hajime says. “I think I’d like anything with you. I want everything.”

Oikawa just looks at him for what seems like a very long time, his eyes moving over Hajime’s face, down his chest, his stomach, pausing around his hips—where he can surely see Hajime’s cock stirring under the thin, sleek fabric of his basketball shorts—and then slowly back up again.

“What do you want right now?” he asks, his voice so low and husky suddenly that Hajime barely recognizes it.

 _I want you naked. I want to see how loud I can make you moan. I want to know what you look like when you come_. Hajime has thought all these things a thousand times, and he can hardly grasp the reality that he can actually say them out loud now. He doesn’t know where to start.

“I want to taste you,” is what comes out.

Oikawa’s cheeks fill with color again, but he doesn’t blink. He mirrors Hajime when he sits up on his knees, and then Hajime puts his hands on Oikawa’s waist, dragging them down and catching his thumbs in the loose waistband of his borrowed shorts, pulling them easily to Oikawa’s knees. He pats the bed behind them and Oikawa stands, kicking the shorts off and then sitting in front of Hajime. His breath catches when Hajime rests his palms on the insides of his thighs, brushing his thumbs over the soft skin there, and then pressing his legs apart until they’re spread wide and he can crouch between them.

Hajime doesn’t know what he’s doing, but his mind is so flooded with Oikawa’s scent, with the heat of his skin, that he can’t stop to be nervous or to overthink. He just leans forward and presses his lips to the outline of Oikawa’s cock, breathing in again, and then dragging his tongue over him through the fabric of his underwear, until he feels his cockhead and closes his mouth over it.

“Oh,” Oikawa breathes, his hands coming to Hajime’s shoulders.

Hajime swirls his tongue around Oikawa, soaking the fabric and then sucking hard so he can taste him even if he’s not quite touching him yet. Oikawa makes another low, breathy noise, and Hajime releases him to mouth slowly all over his length, stopping at the base to give Oikawa’s balls the same treatment as his cockhead, and then back up again. Oikawa’s fingers are twisted in his shirt now and Hajime can’t wait anymore, he wants to really taste him. He presses one hand low on Oikawa’s back, guiding his hips up as he tugs his boxers down with his other hand. He slides them all the way off so he can push Oikawa’s legs apart again and settle down with his hands pressed into the crease at the top of his thighs, where the skin is hot and already damp with sweat.

He looks up at Oikawa then and finds his eyes on him, pupils large and dark and lips slightly parted. He keeps his eyes on Oikawa’s face when he moves one hand to wrap it tightly around his cock and bring it to his mouth. The head is slick with precum and Hajime slides it across his lips before leaning back to run his tongue over them, humming low in his throat at the taste.

“You’re kind of filthy, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, his voice wavering a little. “I didn’t know that.”

Hajime grins and then leans in again to work his tongue over every inch of Oikawa’s length, leaving it gleaming and, he can only hope, easier to slide down his throat. His lips glide easily over the slick, silky skin, and Hajime is optimistic, pressing lower and feeling his throat open to Oikawa, firm and heavy on the back of his tongue. Oikawa moans then, and Hajime is so lost in how deep and dirty and perfect it sounds, that he doesn’t notice Oikawa’s hips shifting, isn’t prepared at all for the way Oikawa’s cock is suddenly pressed back into his throat before he’s ready to take it, and then he’s coughing suddenly, gasping and pulling back.

“Sorry!” Oikawa yelps. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Hajime waves his hand at him, wiping his streaming eyes and coughing again. “I’m fine, I just wasn’t ready...warn me next time, dumbass.”

“I wasn’t thinking. You felt _so good_ , and—”

Hajime doesn’t need to hear anything else. He grabs Oikawa’s waist and takes him into his mouth again, working over him slowly this time, pulling off frequently to press kisses along the shaft, to let his tongue dance over the head, prodding gently at his slit until Oikawa gasps sharply and slides a hand from Hajime’s shoulder to his head, pressing it down.

“Suck me,” he says, and Hajime loses all control of any higher thought processes and simply acts.

He slowly eases over Oikawa until he’s as deep as he was before. This time his hands are tight on Oikawa’s waist, Oikawa is obviously trying very hard to keep still, and Hajime keeps going, down, down, until his nose is brushing soft curls and somehow, the entirety of Oikawa’s cock is inside him, longer and thicker than it seemed before, now that it’s lodged in his throat. Hajime swallows and Oikawa whimpers, and that broken little sound makes any discomfort more than worth it.

He pulls back and bobs down again, falling into a rhythm of several shallow dips followed by one deep, and each time he takes in all of Oikawa’s length, his cries get a little higher, a little more desperate.

“Oh my _God_ , Iwa-chan. This! This is what you are good at!”

“What the hell does that mean?” Hajime asks, pulling off and letting Oikawa’s cock hang there in front of him, heavy and wet.

“Nothing! Bad wording...I just mean you’re really, really good at this. _Please_ don’t stop, I’m so close.”

Hajime looks up at him and takes in how flushed he’s gotten, the red that had only touched his cheeks before spreading down his neck and under the collar of his shirt. He shouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

“We should stop then,” he says, and Oikawa squeaks in protest.

“Why?!”

“I want…I want you to come inside me.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

“No,” Hajime says, reaching up to smack the side of Oikawa’s head. “I mean…”

“Oh.” Oikawa’s look of indignation subsides. “Are you sure? It seemed like maybe you wanted…”

“I do. I _do_. But I…” Hajime isn’t sure how to explain it, but when he’d been going down on Oikawa, something about the press of his cock, so solid and hot over his tongue and at the back of his throat, made it impossible not to think about how that would feel somewhere else. And thinking about that, about being fucked open by Oikawa, instead of by his own fingers alone in his room, makes him so hard that he’s almost desperate now to feel it instead of just imagining it. “I want you to fuck me this time,” he says firmly.

Oikawa sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, biting at it for a moment before releasing it and nodding.

“Get up,” he says, and as soon as Hajime rises to his feet, Oikawa reaches out to slip his fingers under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers and pull them down, his hands following them all the way to Hajime’s ankles, and then trailing slowly back up again. His expression is so open and it takes Hajime a moment to realize what it is he’s seeing on his face. But then it dawns on him, when Oikawa’s hands are slowly sweeping up his thighs, kneading at the muscles there before sliding around and up to his ass, that it’s awe. Oikawa is looking at him in awe, and this makes his throat immediately go tight.

“God, Iwa.” Oikawa stands, his hands continuing their exploration of Hajime’s body and trailing upwards, sliding under his shirt to press into the small of his back and then spread up and over his shoulder blades, his shirt rising with Oikawa’s hands. “Off, please.”

Hajime pulls his shirt over his head and is now completely naked with Oikawa’s hands and eyes moving over him, raking over his shoulders and down his chest. Fingers trailing in light circles through the smattering of hair around his nipples, then drawing together so both hands are pressed flat against Hajime as Oikawa drags them down over the hard lines of his abs. A shudder jolts up Hajime’s spine, making his shoulders shake, when Oikawa presses both hands just above his cock, fingers spread from hip to hip.

“You,” Oikawa says, eyes still on Hajime’s cock, then roaming back up to his face, “are perfect.”

Hajime swallows, which is an effort, and hopes to God he doesn’t cry. Oikawa’s eyes, his voice, the reverence in his hands all over him, are so sincere. And all the years of feeling like he couldn’t possibly be enough, couldn’t be what Oikawa wanted, are flooded with a different light now. One that burns away the insecurity and doubt and hopelessness, leaving only the love and desire that have been building up for so, so long.

“Tooru,” he says, and it’s Oikawa’s eyes that fill with tears. He’s smiling though, leaning in and kissing Hajime with an open mouth, first on his lips, then his jaw, his neck, his shoulder.

“You idiot,” he says between kisses. “You don’t know. You don’t have any idea how fucking hot you are.”

Hajime can’t take it anymore. The glancing touches and kisses, and the things Oikawa is saying.

“Tooru,” he says again. “I need you, now.”

Oikawa’s eyes are still shining, but when he looks at Hajime again that hunger is back, and he nods, letting go of Hajime to pull off his own shirt. He turns to the bed and takes in the bag sitting on top if it, open and filled with Hajime’s clothing. Hajime is almost confused seeing it there. It seems like a lifetime ago that he had been ready to just walk away and give up. What an idiot he’d been. Of _course_ he should have told Oikawa, from the very start, if there was any chance at all of them being where they are right now.

“I can…you don’t need this, right?” Oikawa asks.

“No,” Hajime says, reaching to knock the bag to the floor, his clothes spilling out.

Oikawa grins and climbs on to the bed. “You have some lube?”

Hajime just stands there, fairly certain that Oikawa just spoke, but unable to recall what the words were. Something seems to have come loose in his mind at the sight of Oikawa, not just fully nude, because that’s not something he hasn’t seen before, but also hard and in his bed. No socks. No need for Hajime to hide his arousal at the sight of him. Just Oikawa, bare and flushed and waiting for Hajime to join him.

“Iwa-chan? Lube?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hajime says, blinking a few times and then wrenching the drawer of his nightstand open and digging around for the bottle that, until this point, has only aided in Hajime getting off by himself while trying very hard not to think about Oikawa. “Here,” he says, handing it to him. “Should I…” he gestures towards the bed.

Oikawa nods, grabbing one of Hajime’s pillows and placing it beside him, watching Hajime as he lies down over it.

“On my back?” Hajime asks, feeling slightly self conscious over the way the pillow pushes his hips up.

“Mhm, just like that,” Oikawa says, drizzling some lube on his fingers and then stretching out against Hajime so he’s half on top of him, and pushing at his raised knees with the back of his hand to get Hajime to spread them. “I want to see your face.”

Hajime scrunches up his face and turns away. “Don’t say that, I don’t want you staring at me.”

“Why not? Won’t you want to know what I look like when I’m fucking you?” Oikawa asks, and Hajime has to drop his scowl. He does very much want to see that.

“Fine,” he says, “but don’t be weird about it.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and bats at Hajime’s knees again. “Keep ‘em spread.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it,” Oikawa says, his eyes narrowed and teasing. “Just do as you’re told and let me take care of you.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Hajime says, and Oikawa laughs. Then he leans over Hajime, holding himself above him so all he can see is Oikawa’s face, soft hair falling over eyes that are wide and earnest now.

“I mean it,” he says. “I want to make you feel so good, Iwa-chan. Please, let me take care of you.”

Hajime doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do with the way Oikawa’s words make him feel. Warm and safe and small somehow, even though he’s broader than Oikawa, and not that much shorter. He nods, and Oikawa settles back at his side, reaching down to run his slick fingers over Hajime’s cock before reaching past it to stroke the curve of his ass, angled upwards by the pillow beneath him. He glides his fingers softly, not reaching deep enough to even brush against Hajime’s entrance, just skirting over his skin, his lips coming down to mouth gently at Hajime’s throat and then along his collarbone.

It’s all so soft, so barely there, and Hajime is already so, so hard. “Oikawa,” he says, and Oikawa kisses him once more, right next to his nipple, and then sits up, shifting lower on the bed and resting one hand on Hajime’s knee before pressing the tip of his finger to his entrance.

“Breathe,” he says, and Hajime does, looking straight into Oikawa’s dark eyes and feeling the heat there melt away any apprehension. Oikawa pushes his finger in—past the tight ring of muscle and as deep as he can reach all at once—and Hajime doesn’t get tense at all. Instead he feels himself open up, already wanting more.

Oikawa slides his finger out and in again, but he seems to know it isn’t enough, and the next time he slides in two. Hajime can definitely feel the extra width, but it’s not too much, and right now he feels like too much is what he needs. It feels so good though, even like this, when it’s not quite enough. To have someone else’s fingers inside him, _Oikawa’s_ fingers, scissoring now and stretching him open.

He can hear his own breaths starting to come out a little more harshly, and Oikawa’s eyes come to his like he’s just noticed it too.

“You’re so quiet, Iwa-chan,” he says. “What will it take to get you to make some noise?”

Hajime is about to tell him not to hold his breath, but suddenly the two fingers that have just slid out of him are replaced by three, plunging straight in and then curling, and Hajime has to bite his lip to keep more than a low moan from escaping.

“Ah,” Oikawa says. “Right there?”

He curls his fingers again, pressing hard against the bundle of nerves that makes Hajime press his own hand over his mouth.

“I can’t hear you, Iwa.” Oikawa slips his fingers out and then presses them back in, right to the same spot, and the hand over his mouth can do nothing to hide the deep sound that comes up from Hajime’s chest. “There?” Oikawa asks again.

“Yes,” Hajime bites out, voice muffled by his hand.

“Oh, I like that. Say that again, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime turns his head away from Oikawa and lets his hand fall because it’s useless anyway. When Oikawa continues to curl his fingers inside him, harder each time, and with such a small space in between each assault that it becomes almost a constant pressure, Hajime loses all resistance and lets his words tumble out without thought. _Yes_ , every time that almost agonizing jolt of pleasure rips through him. _Yes, yes, yes, yes._

Hajime can hardly even feel the bed beneath him anymore, barely registers Oikawa sitting over him, because he’s so close, so ready for the release that is moments away, but then suddenly the pressure is gone and Oikawa withdraws his fingers, leaving Hajime empty and wanting.

“Oikawa!”

“I know,” Oikawa says, his own voice just as breathless. He moves to hover over him, his long legs bent behind Hajime’s. “I’m here.”

And before Hajime even has to ask—or to tell Oikawa how badly he needs him, how desperately he wants more—Oikawa is driving into him and Hajime is so glad Oikawa knows exactly what he needs, because he would never be able to get the words out. A moan rips from his chest as Oikawa buries himself fully inside of him, and he can just barely hear the higher tones of Oikawa’s own cry.

“Wait,” he says, panting, reaching to still Oikawa’s hips before he can start to move. “I can’t...I can’t even think. I don’t want to miss anything.”

Oikawa’s eyes take a moment to focus, and Hajime notices for the first time that everything he’s feeling—the eagerness, the overwhelming need, the longing—is all over Oikawa’s face now as he looks down at him. “I can’t wait much longer, Iwa. You feel...oh my God, you feel so good. And you’re not going to miss anything.”

He is though, he won’t be able to catch every one of Oikawa’s noises, and there’s no way he’ll be able to keep his eyes open and on Oikawa’s face at every moment, to see all of the things that fucking him does to it. His fingers dig into the skin at Oikawa’s waist, like if he grips him tightly enough he can hold on to everything about this moment, too.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, reading his expression and the tension in his hands. “We’re going to do this so many times we’ll lose count. You don’t ever have to worry about missing anything, okay? If you think you’ve missed something, I’ll give it to you again.”

Hajime is not even sure if that makes sense, but the fact that Oikawa is willing to find an answer for what is probably a ridiculous thing to be worrying about, is enough to take away the panic that was building in him.

Oikawa is here with him, inside him, promising him that this is _his_ now. So there’s no need to try to memorize the sound of every gasp. This isn’t fleeting. This isn’t something he’ll only get to experience once and then be left to grasp at memories.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, pushing against Oikawa’s hips, letting him know he’s ready to keep going.

Oikawa follows his lead, pulling out of Hajime slowly. “I’m yours,” he says, and then he presses back in and Hajime almost loses the words, because it feels like he’s being split open.

“Again,” he says, and he’s not sure what he’s even asking for, and maybe Oikawa isn't either, but he gives him everything.

He folds himself over Hajime, reaching to run both his hands over his chest, up the sides of his neck and into his hair. “I’m yours,” he repeats, pulling out and thrusting in again. “I’m yours. And you...” he dips his head to kiss Hajime’s face. “You…” another thrust, another kiss. “Oh, Hajime.”

Hajime’s head was already spinning, and now he feels like his entire body is freewheeling through space. Oikawa’s lips are fluttering over him, kissing each place they land, and if it weren’t for the solid press of Oikawa’s cock anchoring him, that deep ache that shoots through him each time Oikawa fills him so completely, he would think maybe he really was floating in a dream right now.

“You are mine,” Oikawa says, and Hajime moans his agreement.

They keep going like this for as long as they can. Oikawa murmuring over him, whispering promises against his skin and sealing each one with a kiss, his hands always moving, touching and caressing every part of Hajime he can reach. But even though Hajime wishes he could exist in this moment forever, he’s been waiting for so long, and his cock is so painfully hard where it lies leaking against his stomach. He doesn’t want this to end, but he needs it to.

“Tooru,” he says, surprised by how rough his own voice sounds. “Harder, please.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything, he just sits up and adjusts them slightly, pulling Hajime’s hips so his ass is against Oikawa’s lap and his legs wrap around his waist. Then he plants one hand next to Hajime on the bed, and presses the other to his cock, sliding his palm over it and drawing a broken groan from Hajime.

“Now, Tooru. I need you now.”

Oikawa pulls out of Hajime until only the head of his cock is still inside him, and wraps his hand around Hajime’s weeping erection. “I’ve got you,” he says, and he thrusts in quick and sharp this time, brushing against Hajime’s prostate just as he pumps his hand over his cock. The two sensations together make Hajime almost choke on a gasp, and before he can catch his breath Oikawa’s hips roll back and snap in again, just as sharply, and then again, and again. Hajime isn’t sure if he’s breathing at all anymore, there never seems to be a chance, with Oikawa fucking into him so fiercely now. But it doesn’t matter because if this is it for him, this is the way he wants to go.

Oikawa sits up, grasping at Hajime’s hip and pulling him more firmly against him so he somehow hits even deeper inside him, and Hajime isn’t just moaning now, he’s making sounds he didn’t know he could. High and broken, but he doesn’t care because it’s so good, and so much. The pressure that has been building low in his stomach growing, spreading, gripping all of him, driving him to lift his hips, arching into Oikawa to get as much of him as he can, so he is nothing but the feeling of Oikawa ripping him apart.

“Hajime!”

He barely has time to register the sound of his name, the way Oikawa’s voice makes it something more than it’s ever been. So much more than the wanton cry of Nakaharu’s name. Oikawa makes _Hajime_ a prayer, a shout of praise. And then Oikawa is shaking over him and Hajime remembers to open his eyes, to focus around the darkness at the edges of his vision and drink in the way Oikawa looks as he shudders and spills inside Hajime. The way his eyes squeeze closed and his mouth drops open, the way his hair falls away from his forehead when his head tips back, the sweat that runs down his throat to catch in the hollow between his collar bones.

Hajime has always known Oikawa was gorgeous, but this image of him now, arching over Hajime and calling out his name, will never leave his mind, will always be his definition of Oikawa’s beauty.

He can’t look anymore though. His eyes are open but his vision has gone dark, all of his focus drawn to the incredible heat coursing through him, all of it blurring together and indistinguishable. Oikawa still filling him, his cum dripping out and being spread against Hajime’s skin when Oikawa pulls out and presses in again, his hand tightening on Hajime’s cock. And then that’s it, the slight grip of Oikawa’s fingers, and Hajime is gone. He can’t hear or see anything, can only feel his back arch, his whole body jerk as he comes, spilling hot and thick across his chest. It feels so different, so much more intense, with Oikawa still inside him. He can feel something break through his throat, can just make out the sound of Oikawa’s name over the roaring in his ears, and then...

The next thing he knows he’s opening his eyes and Oikawa is beside him, one hand gently stroking through his hair, over and over.

Hajime blinks, confused. Oikawa was between his legs, inside him, and now...

“Did I black out?” he asks, voice coming out so rough he wonders just how loud he must have yelled Oikawa’s name.

Oikawa is propped up on his elbow, his head resting in the hand that is not carding through Hajime’s hair now.

“You seemed to,” he says. “I was a little worried, but you were definitely breathing.”

“God,” Hajime says, turning his head so he’s facing Oikawa, so close that their noses almost touch.

“I must be pretty good,” Oikawa says.

Hajime pushes him so he falls on his back, a light laugh fluttering from his lips and then turning into a squawk when Hajime moves with him, rolling on top of him to let his full weight rest on the long body beneath him. The cool, sticky mess still spread across his chest and stomach now pressed between them.

“Nooo!” Oikawa shrieks, laughing still as he wriggles frantically under him. “Iwa-chan, _gross!”_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hajime says, very purposefully making himself immovable and pinning Oikawa down.

“Gross, you’re so gross,” Oikawa says, but his struggling is halfhearted already, and there’s too much fondness in his voice for the derision to be believable.

“Hmm.” Hajime remains a dead weight. Now that he’s here, with Oikawa’s arms settling across his back, he really doesn’t want to move, even if it is a bit gross.

“Also extremely heavy.”

“Good thing you’re so strong,” Hajime says, lifting himself just enough to kiss Oikawa’s lips, and then sinking down heavily again.

“I’m _good_ , too,” Oikawa says, voice shallow as the air is slowly pressed from his lungs. “You were supposed to say, ‘Yes, Oikawa, you are...really…’”

“What was that?” Hajime asks. “I can’t hear you.”

Oikawa slams both of his fists on Hajime’s back and coughs. “That’s because I can’t breathe. Get your gorgeous, heavy as hell body _off_ of me.”

Hajime laughs and relents, staying on top of Oikawa but holding his own weight now.

“You are,” he says softly, his lips brushing against Oikawa’s chin when he speaks. “That was…”

“Was it worth waiting for?” Oikawa asks, his fingers running up the middle of Hajime’s back and then stopping to brush slowly through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I wish you hadn’t had to wait so long, but I hope it was worth waiting for.”

Most of Hajime wants to just say yes and then collapse back on Oikawa and let his exhaustion take over, but there’s something in Oikawa’s voice, a touch of wistfulness, of regret, that makes him brace himself a little higher so it’s easier to look down at his face.

“Hey,” he says. “I don’t want you to worry about how long it took. I don’t want you to feel bad about not knowing how I felt, or about anything with Nakaharu.”

“But—”

Hajime shakes his head and Oikawa stops.

“No, I mean it. I’m not going to regret any of the years we’ve spent as friends. They’ve been really good years. And now we have something else, too, and it’s... _yes_ , Oikawa. Tooru. Yes, it was worth waiting for.”

Oikawa looks so perfect gazing up at him, his hair in disarray and everything about his features soft and open in a way Hajime knows most people don’t get to see.

“I didn’t know I was waiting for you,” he says, and his voice is just warm now, without that trace of sadness. “But now that I have you, I feel like I was.”

Hajime smiles, dips to kiss Oikawa once more, and then slides so he’s only half on top of him when he sinks to the bed again.

There’s nothing else he needs to hear or say right now. Not with Oikawa’s fingers back in Hajime’s hair, his bare skin hot against him, his voice still playing over in his mind. _I have you_.

Hajime is very good at getting used to things, but this may take some time. This kind of joy is not something that just settles into complacency, fading into the background. This is the kind of feeling that Hajime really might never get used to at all, might spend his life marvelling over and being surprised by. If this is the case, if every day he wakes up and Oikawa is there, wanting him, calling him his own, and this fills Hajime with the same warmth and wonder that it does now, then he is really more than fine with his record of getting used to things being broken. He doesn’t need it. He has everything he needs now.

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to [Esselle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle) for all her help getting this ready and _on here_ , and for encouraging me to try writing fanfiction in the first place.
> 
> ([Tumblr](http://ellessey-writes.tumblr.com/))


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